


Ancients

by LightningClawedSky



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Casual drinking, Fist Fights, Friendship, Gen, Headcanon, Minor Violence, Pre-Canon, pre-harrier, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2020-03-01 11:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18799015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningClawedSky/pseuds/LightningClawedSky
Summary: Just as the iconic era of the 80s was ending, 777 had died alongside his two best friends, Tenho and BJ. Struggling to make ends meet in their new life as a trio of Support Reapers, they’re visited one evening by a mysterious stranger with orders to retrieve the singer, and bring him face to face with none other then the Composer himself for a little “talk.”





	Ancients

**Author's Note:**

> A piece I wrote for my RP 777's Joshua, the-composer, on tumblr! Unedited as always.

“Seven, do you remember when we first met?”

The punk glanced at Joshua, trying to formulate thoughts in how he was going to answer as he cracked open one of the beers he brought along. 777’s eyebrows furrowed as he took a sip of his bitter drink.

“Ya finally invite me t’yer special place on 104 just to talk?” He grunted, “lame.”

“But, do you?”

777 sighed with a smile as he put his drink down on the ledge beside him. The city suddenly seemed to have quieted down from in top of the tall building, even though he knew it wasn’t the case. Time felt slowed and muddled until he opened his eyes once more.

“Really, Joshie, ya think I can forget that easily? Give me some credit here, dude.”

——

When the doorbell rang in the middle of the day, everyone in the trio was tense that it could have been another eviction. (There’s really not much room in a city like Shibuya, and besides, three youthful Support Reapers weren’t immune to the rules of the living. They were a handful of trouble for everyone they knew.)

It was Tenho who answered the door after the 3rd ring, revealing the tall man in the snakeskin suit and flowing black hair. However, the most unnerving were the eyes, completely shielded away with glasses that were tinted so dark, a starless sky would look bright.

“W-who are you?” Tenho felt his voice shake, even though a part of him knew that this person was not alive by any means of the word.

Without any other words, the stranger moved past Tenho and BJ, despite cries of protest of not inviting the stranger in for starters. The way which he walked was silent, and filled with Grace as he made his way to the younger 777 sitting in the couch, arms crossed with a fierce scowl.

“Your presence is requested.”

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” The young adult replied, narrowing his eyes as he glared daggers and tightened the grip he had on his red sweater. “I refuse.”

“That isn’t very advisable.”

“I don’t care!” The scowl grew into a snarl, hackles rising like a dog. “I don’t know you, so why should I trust ya? Ya just can’t walk right into my damn house, for fucks sake!”

“I was requested to retrieve the Support Reaper who has been causing problems. You seem to not know the meaning of ‘respect,” Sven Saintclaire.”

“What did you call me?” 777 bared his teeth as he snapped right up onto his feet, hands clenched. He could feel the heartbeat in his ears. He could see his two friends from the corners of his eyes, faces concerned about the situation, unknowing what to do of the stranger, and of the fury that 777 harvested.

“YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO RIGHT T’CALL ME THAT!” The young singer shrieked, throwing a punch at the man. Without hesitation,  the man caught the blow and twisted the hand harshly to the side, earning a cry of pain from 777 as he dropped to his knees, glaring up at the other.

It really hasn’t been that long since he became a Reaper. After his Game, he knew that he desperately had to work on his temper and.nit jump straight to violence, but really this dude just waltzed into his house like he owned the damn place! How was he supposed to react?!

“I did warn you, it was inadvisable.” The black haired man glowered at the boy, who shrunk down out of fear. “For someone who interests the Composer, you are a brat.”

—

777 followed the intruder, not really paying attention to the direction they were heading, as he was fixated on the person himself, observing the calm and collected movements he made with every stride.

Rain was beginning to fall in the form of a light mist. The way the water interacted with the Underground was peculiar. He could feel the cold wetness as the droplets fell, but they never landed on him. It passed right through, leaving 777 dry. Despite being part of the UG for just over half a year now, whenever it rained he was either inside or on the plane of the RG. He shivered.

This new life he accepted was…strange for lack of better words.

777 looked up again, and to his surprise Megumi had turned his head to look at the rock star wannabe, piercing golden eyes peering out of the side of his glasses, causing 777’s heart to halt and jostle around in surprise. “Your staring is impolite; I suggest now that refrain from it when you meet Him.”

“Where else am I supposed to look? I’ve been livin’ in this dump of a city before I died long enough, I know where shit is.” 777 spat with a grunt, digging his hands further into the sweaters pockets.

Megumi was silent, and then he turned his head away and continued walking without acknowledgement of the young Reapers words.

777 frowned and resumed his pace, trailing after the other. “Ya know, ya never told me yer name.”

“Apologies, it must have slipped my mind. My name is Megumi Kitaniji… and yourself?”

“Cut that politeness shit, Meggy, you already know my name…”

Megumi couldn’t hide the displeasure in his face at his new nickname, his nose wrinkling up with disdain, but ultimately decided to ignore it, getting this Support Reaper to Him  was already proving difficult enough. “Yes, it is Sve-”

“Like, the hell it is! I refuse to be called by that anymore! That’s the old me!”

“It is what is written on your papers, it is what I will refer you as. Out of curiosity, what is your calling name then, hm?”

777 was quiet, eyes casting down on the sidewalk. Megumi stopped, causing the singer to walk right into him.

“HEY?! What gives!?”

“As I expected, you haven’t thought ahead on the matter of your new name. Unfortunate.”

“No, you’re fuckin’ wrong! I do have a name, asshat!”

“Then do tell.”

“Triple Seven! My name is Triple fuckin’ Seven!”

Megumi blinked in surprise, despite his facial expression remaining neutral. “Pardon?”

“You heard me! Triple Seven, like, three sevens?” 777 took his hands out of the pockets, tightening the fists until he could feel his nails digging into his skin as he looked up at Megumi, violet eyes unwavering. “MY NAME IS TRIPLE SEVEN!”

Megumi was quiet, bringing a hand to his chin in thought. This young man had such a strong vibe coming off of him, even though he has been here for a relatively short time. His personality was headstrong, as he was warned about, but it seemed to be worse than what he was even informed of. His whole character was…odd, to say the least.

“It sounds to me like you’re trying to convince yourself, rather than me.”

777’s face melted into shock. Megumi was right; he was still coming to terms with his new identity after death, but before he could retort, Megumi spoke, “We have arrived.”

777 looked around, sewers, how nice. These people certainly did have shitty taste. Maybe they had tea parties with the rats. “Whatever,” he grumbled, following Megumi through the concrete passages, the smell of sewage reeked from every possible crevice.It was just one room after another, wasn’t it?

He admittedly wasn’t paying attention, so when they came into a bright room, that looked furnished and well, nice (even if it wasn’t exactly his style,) he was a bit shocked.

“Aye, ya got booze. Nice.” 777 grinned, eyeing the bar and the many bottles on display behind it.

“Touch it, and I won’t dare to hesitate on lopping your hand off.” Megumi hissed, golden eyes glaring from the sides of his shades. “I am aware you are an alcoholic. You may have a drink after, if you’d like, but you will pay for it. Come with me.”

The singer rolled his eyes, and followed, coming into a room that was suddenly spacious. A throne in the center with a glowing figure. 777 had to squint, but he did not falter beyond that.

“Interesting,” the figure spoke, his voice sounding like smooth chimes laced in silk. “You have no fear.”

“Should I? You’re just like a mega sized neon light, really,” the singers voice was laced with sarcasm, clearly unimpressed. “Does only shades over there get a pair of glasses, or are ya try’na ruin my corneas?”

The Composer chuckled a bit. How entertaining this Reaper was. Not only that, but he was resilient and resisted against falling down against his powerful vibe washing over him. It was almost impressive.

“My apologies, I should have taken into account how my beauty is blinding.”

The rocker sneered as the light died down. 777 stopped squinting, eyebrows arching in surprise to see someone who’s age was indefinite, but was clearly youthful, perhaps an older teenager or a young adult much like the Reaper himself, standing with a proper posture, right in front of him.

“Is this better?”

“I guess,” 777 snorted. “Ya look like a princess.”

“Do not talk to the Composer in such a manner,” Megumi spoke up, posture rigid, as if he was the one who was offended and not the pretty boy standing in front of them both.

“Megumi, relaaax, I take it as a compliment you see. I should not be seen as anything but royalty.”

“Yer porcelain skin would make a mighty fine throw rug.”

“Sir– please,” Megumi started. “He’s being rude-”

“Megumi, despite how long you have been part of the Underground, you still are extremely uncertain of your newfound status as Conductor. I suggest kindly, that you only speak when you’re being referred to. Just watch, please.” Joshua sighed, rolling his eyes and placed a hand on 777’s shoulder. “Between you and me, he can be sooo protective, it’s silly really. He’s not new to the UG but he’s  new to the position of Conductor; really needs to loosen up a bit…”

“Don’t touch me.” 777 snarled, causing the Composer to take his hand off the Reapers shoulders in slight surprise.

“Got it.” He didn’t really feel like getting his fingers bitten off, especially in a setting like this. He needed this Reaper to trust him, even if it was only a little bit. Provoking would only make the matter at hand worse. “No touchy touchy~”

“What d’ya want?”

“My, extremely straight to the point, aren’t you?” Slightly annoying, but it gave him the impression he wouldn’t have to butter up anything he said. The Reaper clearly had already come to terms that he was dead and not returning to the living. The only issue at hand may be the personal Vendetta against the one who ruled the UG.

“At least tell me who ya are, “Mr. Composer”.” The sarcasm in the singers voice definitely wasn’t going anywhere, nor was the heavy air quotes he made as he spoke.

“A bit of an irritating brat, aren’t you?”

“Of course; gotta keep up my rep.” 777 cracked a smile, crossing his arms. “I aim to please.”

“My name is Yoshiya Kiryu, but you may call my Joshua like the majority of those around me.” The Composer tilted his head, Ash blonde bangs falling over his face as he analyzed the Reaper. How peculiar of a personality; he really didn’t care what he said to someone of authority, did he? Joshua returned a soft smile, finding that things from here on out would be entertaining, at the very least.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here-”

“Yeah? Kinda? I thought that part was obvious.”

Joshua rubbed his forehead, an irritated sigh leaving his mouth. Nevermind, would this be entertaining or borderline aggravating? “Will you please stop interrupting me and allow me to get straight to the point, you’re only wasting your time here and prolonging the visit so be patient and kindly shut up.”

When no other smart alec comments were made, Joshua mumbled a relieved 'thank you’ to the Higher Plane. God.

“What I wanted to talk to you about was your points,” he began, clasping his hands in front of his face, his smile crumpling into that of a concerned frown. “You seem to be an exceptional Reaper of sorts, despite you not having the strongest Underground abilities, you have miraculous control of your vibe…” Joshua trailed off, listening to the music that this Reaper emitted. It was heavier than most would be, louder too, but it was steady and stable. The beat was consistent, a heart of a drum beat and a guitar solo of his heart on top of the static that was common among souls of the UG.

‘If he keeps developing at the rate he is currently,’ Joshua hummed as he thought to himself, ‘then it could very well be possible that it would only get louder and more refined; perhaps the static will vanish completely and the song will be in it’s best form…’

“Is it true that you mastered the ability to shift planes within the first couple of weeks of becoming a Reaper?” Joshua couldn’t help but blurt out the question. Normally Reapers took at least the first month to be able to figure out how to go back and forth between the RG and UG, and even then for those prodigies, it would still be a strain on their bodies, but here was a Reaper phasing in and out like liquid through a strainer. It was essentially effortless.

“Sorry, it’s just– you do so poor regarding most abilities in the underground. You have trouble summoning Noise, pins are almost completely useless for you, and your psyches as a Reaper are limited to brute force, but yet you somehow have extraordinary abilities in regards to your vibe and you are above the average Reaper when it comes to imprinting.”

“And?”

“And?” Joshua’s sleek brows furrowed, momentarily stunned by the question. Didn’t he know how atypical that was?! No, of course not, this Reaper had a brain full of songs and spare parts.

“It’s absolutely fascinating!” Joshua couldn’t just put it into words how intrigued he was with the other, it made him feel giddy with excitement. 777 couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in mild confusion; he wasn’t around long enough to actually understand anything about him that Joshua thought was so amazing, but yet here he was, the Composer Himself acting like a preschool kid learning about dinosaurs. Joshua, catching wind if his actions, cleared his throat and straightened out his posture back to the professional facade it was before.

“I do believe you could potentially see yourself rank up if you get better in the other areas of performance, but enough of that,” Joshua paused, tapping his pursed lips with his delicate porcelain fingers in thought.

“The real reason I called you down, aside from my own fascination, was how you are with Players. You seem to be able to erase them without much of a second thought, but with others you will hold yourself back or even help them. It’s not against the rules by any means, but I don’t recall many Reapers, or even some at all, taking as much mercy onto the Players as yourself. Does this correlate with your abilities, by chance? Why do you do it?”

It wasn’t really that hard for 777 to answer. “It’s because I relate to them. I went through the Game, and I hope I became a better person because of it. They show potential, they deserve a chance to better themselves and it’s going to only get harder with every passing day in the UG. They deserve that one ounce of hope.” 777 looked away, towards the ground. It felt weird hearing the words come from his mouth. It wasn’t the entire truth by any means, but he hoped it would satisfy. For now, at least.

He just doesn’t want anyone to go through what he did during his game. He wants to be that ounce of hope to help a Player through the day. 777 just wanted to mean something good for once.

“I think it’s partially 'cuz I feel more human after the game, ‘specially compared to most Reaps that I’ve seen.”

Joshua’s eyes widened slightly. Most Reapers would say they felt less humane, more monstrous, no longer inhibited by the rules of the living. In the Underground people could be who they truly were underneath their flesh and skin. It made sense though, here in front of him stood a Reaper who felt more human, one who not only frequented the RG, but interacted with it, taking pity on it and the people who walked that plane.

“We we’re all human once, but when I was alive I stripped myself of my own humanity earlier than most would. The Game showed me how I was before was just. Wrong. That’s not the way a human should act, no one should be like how I was.”

“We were all…human…once…” Joshua repeated the words slowly along his tongue. They felt foreign on his lips, like trying a new dish from another culture and being unsure of the taste. Was it like or dislike? Too spicy or too sweet?

“You seem to have a good grasp on yourself as a person.”

777 couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “If I did, I don’t think I’d even be dead!”

“True.” Joshua hummed. “May I ask what was your entry fee to the game?”

“My voice. Not just my physical voice, but my metaphorical one, too. I couldn’t ever bring m’self t’ try and bring out what I really thought and wanted to say.”

“How unfortunate. And the fee you have after becoming a Reaper?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you feel discontent because of it? Not knowing the fee you lost to become who you are now?”

“I think bein’ a Reap was the bes’ thing to ever happen in my life.” A pause. “Unlife.”

“After life,” corrected Joshua.

“Whatever.”

“And why might that be?” Joshua asked. He could already guess the answer, he just wanted to hear it for himself. A confirmation of sorts, just to know how he should approach the Reaper in the future, if this Reaper would allow him to, anyways.

“I get a new identity. I get to be better than what I was before I died.” 777 looked to the side. “I can achieve my dreams like this, without havin’ 'em be wasted away t’ nothin’.”

“What dreams are those?”

“I wanna be a rockstar. I wanna influence people, show 'sm they’re not alone in the world, that there’s people jus’ as angry as 'em, just as upset as 'em, and together we can make a difference.” 777 narrowed his eyes, looking back at Joshua. “I don’t fuckin’ know why I’m tellin’ ya all of this, I don’t even know ya.”

“You know my name.”

“And nothing else.” 777 snorted, crossing his arms. “My turn to ask questions, then.”

Joshua blinked in surprise. He really didn’t think the tables would turn so sharply onto himself, but he should have at least  guessed as much, considering how the Support Reaper was acting.

“Do you have any dreams?”

“I’ve been dead for a long time, and I am the godly influence of a city, I don’t think I have time for dreams–”

“Thats bullshit!” Joshua stumbled back in surprise at the sudden hostility and passion that was in the others voice. “Everyone’s gotta have dreams, if you’re older ya jus’ had more time t’plan yer attack an’ tackle em!”

“I do suppose, you may be right.”

“I know I’m right,” snorted 777, a smirk on his face. “Ya may be dead but that don’t mean ya can’t feel alive.”

“That’s rich in itself, coming from someone who has stated they feel more human.”

“Bold of ya t'assume that feelin’ human meant like ya felt alive.”

Joshua frowned at those words. They had only just met, and this guy got it; he understood. Humans don’t have to feel alive, they do not even have to feel. They just had to be, and continue being. Not one person in the world wished themselves alive, but many wished themselves dead.

777 could say that he didn’t have a grasp on who he was as a person all he wanted, but he had a grasp on emotions and how they functioned, whether he realized it or not. You didn’t need a reason to feel the way you do, you just had to exist. Did it often make sense? Of course not, but the world wasn’t black and white and things were changing and evolving so much that it made the Composers head spin in circles the more he thought about it.

But really; what was going on in that mind of the singer? A sense of feelings but not a sense of self; the emotion of anger but where was the guilt?

Joshua pushed a strand of his Ash blonde hair behind his ear, watching the singer in an unnerving silence. Neither of them spoke, but each of their minds was frantically thinking. When should I go? Do I let him stay?

The Composer breathed in, an idea trickling through his head. Why would he doesn’t and wonder about what the other was thinking when he could see for himself? He had control over the UG, after all, he could just scan the Reaper and send him on his way, back to whatever shit hole he crawled out from.

Joshua closed his eyes and concentrated, feathers falling from his wings as he explored the mind’s eye. There was nothing there.

Almost nothing.

He could see a door, locked and chained shut with an animal in front, growling through bared teeth and intense violet eyes that shone through a fury that was masked with rage, but hidden underneath was the familiar defensiveness of fear.

Triple Seven here, Joshua thought, with the lull of a sadness that he and the singer shared, but we’re no strangers of. Is afraid of opening up…

Suddenly, the vision shattered like glass as he was knocked out of his meditative state. Stunned and falling to his knees, he could barely register what had happened. He reached a hand up to his face, feeling the warm, sticky blood gushing out his nose and between his finger tips.

“–SIR!”

Joshua waved his hand, signaling that he was fine, that Megumi should stand down and out of the way. He looked back up at 777, mouth agape in shock.

“You felt that?”

“I dunno, but did ya feel that, bitch?” 777 shouted, both hands clenched as his sides, as if he was prepared to through another punch. Blood dripped down from his right fit into the floor.

“Don’t  fuckin’ try to scan me if yer preachin’ 'bout trust an’ shit if ya don’t act on it! Ya want me to trust ya, and respect ya and whatever else bullshit ya want, yer gonna have to earn it like a normal fuckin’ person!”

Joshua’s face of shock melted into a small giggle, before molding into a full blown laughing fit. He didn’t care about the searing pain he had of a broken nose, he didn’t care about Megumi frantically wanting to help him. This was definitely more entertaining that he had anticipated, he really just couldn’t help but laugh in response.

The pain, the anger, this Reaper really was so human compared to the hardened Composer, he couldn’t help but laugh at how alive he felt, tears forming in his eyes as he snorted. Joshua wiped the blood out from under his nose, starting at his bloodied hand, still laughing to himself.

“I can’t believe you hit me.”

“I got more where that came from is ya decide to pull that shit again.”

Joshua looked up, back to his hand and the concrete floor, covered with blood drips, and back to 777. The smile never left his face as he got up, offering the singer his gentle hand as a truce. “I’ll keep you under my watchful gaze.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 777 snorted, looking at the hand and rolling his eyes. Yeah right, he wasn’t going to take it from such a prissy boy, Composer or not. Spinning around in his heels, he turned to walk in the other direction– away.

“Wait! The Composer hasn’t dismissed you yet!” Megumi called out, taking a few steps forwards, only to be stopped as Joshua held his arm out, blocking the Conductors charge.

“Let him be.” Joshua said, glancing at Megumi and back to the Support Reaper, waving his hand in farewell at him.

“Goodbye, Triple Seven! Until we meet again!~”

“Ya didn’t call me Sven.” 777 looked over his shoulder in surprise, stopping his walk to turn around and stare. Even though Joshua was socked in the face, there was still warmth to his icy cold facade, deep in his mulberry eyes.

“Of course not.” Joshua smiled softly. “This is who you are now.”

—

“I remember the outcome going a bit differently, don’t you think? I distinctly recall you grovelling at my feet, kissing the very ground I walk on.”

“Duh, you probably had a goddamn concussion thanks to my fist.” 777 rolled his eyes, finishing off the can of beer in his hand and tossing it down the roof of 104, eyes following up as it fell until it could be seen no more. “We’ve known each other for a long time now, huh? Man, we’re so fuckin’ old…”

“Absolutely ancient.”


End file.
